


His Lips Drink Water, His Heart Drinks Wine

by BonJiro



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ganondorf centric, Gen, Gerudo boys pining over the country next door, Gerudo things, Ocarina of Time, light shipping, more like Zelda gets caught up in his obsession with Hyrule, prosey, short fic, slightly AU, the great discontentment of shitty wizard Kings, three part fic in drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonJiro/pseuds/BonJiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ganondorf had begun to wonder what the word treasure truly meant, as his fingertips brushed against the grapes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Lips Drink Water, His Heart Drinks Wine

The Gerudo was but a Prince when first spied a grape, golden eyes drinking in the sight with a thirst that he—at that tender time of youth—thought nothing deeper driven than necessity of function and, perhaps, benign curiosity.

The volcanic soils of Kakariko had born plump and ripe produce unlike any other vineyard in Hyrule, dripping like swollen raindrops caught in motion upon lattice looking too frail to hold such bounty. He fancied it not unlike the storm that passed only days earlier, vines tangling wild like lightning to strike and scorch earth. The dirt soft and warm beneath his feet, comforting without holding the sun’s burn; he imagined it to a be cloud and let his fantasy be indulged a while.

Rounded rubies glistened in the dying daylight all around him, boasting sweetness he longed to taste and a wealth he could never earn, nor steal away with to his fortress home.

Having wandered away from his escort, as he was more prone to do with every passing year, he found himself relieved that his sisters would not witness his awestruck face or the childlike glint in his eye. There were many more wondrous things beyond desert borders than any of their tales could do justice, he thought, and felt for a moment they had held out on him for so many years.

He supposed he could barely find words enough himself for Hylian treasure, were he to be pressed to describe some of the marvels he had seen in the last year…

But these things did not hold such gleam and lustre in the eyes of his kin, it seemed, and so he was glad for it to be hidden.

The only precious leaf was gold, they told him, for it was the only one that would survive in the sands. Only cold, hard, lifeless treasures could be brought back as souvenirs, as tough and unyielding as the Gerudo themselves. Treasure could lie dormant in caverns for centuries; treasure could be passed down from mother to daughter, holding shape and form, growing only in worth and rotting away long after your bones were dust.

Exotic fruits, no matter how closely they resembled rubies, were not treasure—only stones and metal were as precious as water and blood.

Sentiment and worth could not be placed in fragility, they had said to him. His country could not house such things, only destroy them, they had warned. These habits would only bring pain, they whispered between themselves, watching the Prince wander the vineyard with saddened, ever vigilant eyes.

Ganondorf had begun to wonder what the word treasure truly meant, as his fingertips brushed against the grapes.

He tasted no answer as an aunt seized his wrist from behind, sneaking up through the mists of his reverie to tear him away.


End file.
